


you and me and her

by quadrille



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Game Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Mid-Canon, Pining, Season/Series 01, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 22:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quadrille/pseuds/quadrille
Summary: When Harvey sees his friend with Selina, a muscle spasms in his throat, and he feels something snap.It’s her and yet it isn’t just her; it’s the way his gaze trails down Bruce’s half-naked body, the sharp angles and lines of the other man’s bruised torso, the flinty set to his jaw, the challenge in the millionaire’s eyes. It’s him, it’s her, it’s both of them, it’s the fact that they now have something where he isn’t allowed in.





	you and me and her

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly AU, but mostly compliant with season one. Title from Snake River Conspiracy’s “You and Your Friend”: _i can’t see you and me and her without each other / and i hope you feel the same way too._ (Because let's be real: if they'd just had a threesome, so much anguish could have been avoided.)

Harvey is kissing her, but then her gaze slips over his shoulder and lands on Bruce Wayne, and sharpens with startled recognition — as he stares at her black eye, as she fixates on the scratch on his jaw, and realisation lights both their eyes, and they simply can’t stop looking at each other.

====

It’s a never-ending parade of fundraisers scattered throughout Gotham.

When the city’s well-heeled socialites and financiers and CEOs and politicians show up at the Wayne manor, Bruce can feel himself winding tighter and tighter, his facial expression going rigid with its slick charm and practiced smile. He only loosens up when Alfred materialises by his side (quiet, unobtrusive as ever, and always knowing the exact moment when to check on his ward’s fraying nerves), or—

Or when Harvey Dent steps through the door, all booming good cheer and joie de vivre. He claps his friend on the shoulder, an enthusiastic show of camaraderie. Somehow all that gleaming charisma sits better on the mayoral candidate than it ever has on Bruce, and he finds himself envying the other man for how easy he makes it look — Gotham’s millionaire son has always been popular, yes, but too many people can tell it’s fake, and they know he’s been groomed and tailored for this flash of insincerity, a perfect plastic charm. No one expects to ever see into the _real_ Bruce Wayne, although the preening debutantes keep trying.

But there’s a woman draped on Harvey’s arm in a hip-hugging black dress, and his gaze catches on hers. While Harvey’s schmoozing and chatting up a pair of donors, Selina twists slightly, enough to arch her eyebrow at Bruce over his best friend’s shoulder.

They need to stop doing this. He could resist this bait, he tells himself; he could make his face placid and nonreactive, turn back to his conversation with some manufacturing tycoon… 

Except he can’t. Instead, the man sets aside his empty wine glass and excuses himself. A minute later, Selina leans up and whispers something into Harvey’s ear, and soon vanishes as well.

Which is how they find themselves in the Waynes’ private library, entwined in one another, teeth grazing against neck and hands tangling in his tie, knocking against some of the bookcases and sending priceless books tumbling to the floor in a flurry. “No, hang on,” he says, relenting for a moment and pulling away, “you have no idea how expensive those are—”

“I have a very good idea, actually,” Selina purrs into his ear. 

Bruce hefts her up, carries the woman to the edge of the heavy desk, settles her there. His hand slips up the slit of Selina’s dress, tugging her underwear aside. (“Lace?” “I dress for the occasion.” “How did you know _this_ was going to be the occasion—” “I always know, Bats.”) And then her nimble hands are unbuckling his belt, slipping it free of his designer trousers, working them down his narrow hips, and then it’s fast and quick and furious, her teeth nipping at his ear, almost leaving a mark on his neck.

They rearrange their clothes carefully afterwards, Selina fixes her hair in the reflection of a marble bust of Thomas Wayne, and then she leaves the library first. Bruce waits six minutes, re-tightening his tie and tidying up the fallen books, then follows after.

Back out in the main foyer, he sees that she’s resumed her spot on Harvey’s arm, with her back conscientiously turned to the millionaire. Selina doesn’t look at Bruce for the entire rest of the night, but he knows she’s still watching.

===

“Look, Bruce, I didn’t want to do this over the phone,” the other man says, his voice tinny across the cell phone, and it practically sounds like a breakup. Bruce almost wants to laugh, but his chest is too tight with panic and he’s flooring the Batmobile, cutting corners and tearing down Gotham streets to get to the debate as soon as he can.

“With all the allegations in the press, and now this mess with Falcone… You’re a liability. But here’s the thing, Bruce. Without your money, I am dead in the water. I know this is a delicate topic — but I need you to keep me afloat. I may have to trash you in public… but you and me, we’ll know the truth about our friendship.”

Bruce presses the pedal down harder. “Forget your campaign for a minute — your money won’t matter if you’re dead.”

“Well, until I am, it’s still my primary concern.” Always Harv. Always has his eye on the prize. He’s stubborn and bullheaded as always when he continues, “Listen, I hate to push you, but I need to know… Can I count on your money, Bruce?”

Bruce inhales. Exhales. A deep breath, steeling himself. In the end, it’s actually one of the easiest decisions he’s ever had to make.

“I’ll always support you, Harvey.”

===

During the debate, the vigilante stares through his broken visor at Selina on the ground, struggling to get back to her feet while a gun is leveled at her — Harvey, cowering under the Penguin, who’s brandishing a red-hot lamp and about to plunge it down on his face again and again and again— 

The world seems to be moving in slow motion.

And Batman does the mental math. Gotham believes in Harvey Dent, and _needs_ him.

But it can do without one cat burglar.

And he hates himself for it, but Batman fires the grappling gun at the Penguin, flings himself across the room and towards the prospective mayor, even as he hears the sound of a gunshot behind him, and Bruce jerks once with the sound of it, as if he’s been struck.

===

Bruce has been clutching the bouquet of flowers like it’s a lifeline, an anchor, but finally sets it down on the hospital table alongside the others. He plucks up the signed card to glance at it.

“My mother and my secretary,” Harvey says wryly. “Every sick boy’s dream. The one woman I thought would visit, or at least call… hasn’t. Selina’s been a no-show. I thought she’d at least be by to congratulate me, if nothing else. Guess we weren’t as close as I thought.”

Bruce struggles for a moment to speak through a suddenly dry throat, before mustering the words together. “She’s probably just been busy, hasn’t had a chance to come by yet. You’ll hear from her.”

The new mayor laughs. “Easy for you to be optimistic about women. Pretty sure no one loses _Bruce Wayne’s_ number.” A beat. “I am glad you’re here, though.” And then he’s in the middle of an unnecessary apology, speaking through a cracked jaw and bruised face — but then Bruce’s phone beeps with a message from Alfred. Some more results from their city-wide recordings that he needs to look into.

There’s an uncomfortable twist in Bruce’s gut when he suddenly cuts in with: “Look, I should get going, Harv.”

The other man looks thunderstruck, caught off-guard. “Wha— already? What else do you have to do? My assistant won’t be here for another hour.” Another beat, lonely and longing. “You can… you can stay if you want.”

His voice is low and plaintive and he looks so diminished in that hospital bed, wearing a thin and papery gown. Normally Harvey is all broad shoulders and hulking stature (built more like an NFL linebacker than a politician), but now his hands are knotting in his lap, an uncharacteristic display of nerves.

Bruce pauses by the door, hand against the frame.

“Alright. Just a little longer.”

===

Later on, the confirmation that Selina is still alive and fine is simple enough: a single text message with an angry cat emoji, which makes Bruce smile down at his phone before tucking it discreetly out of sight, the burden on his shoulders feeling lighter than it has in days.

_Thank god,_ he thinks.

===

It’s right after Harvey’s first official speech as mayor, addressing the city with his florid black eye covered as best as possible by makeup — and he has, of course, torn the Wayne reputation to shreds. Bruce waits in the wings, stalking the green room up and down.

The door opens and closes with the lingering sound of scattered applause, but Harvey’s face now looks tight and worried. “Bruce, I’m so sorry, I—“

Bruce waves his hand dismissively. It doesn’t matter. He already agreed to this, to letting himself be trash-talked in front of the city he loves.

Harvey pulls him into a hug then, in a grateful rush; Bruce’s hands knot in the fabric of Harvey’s suit jacket, Harvey breathes in the sharp scent of Bruce’s cologne (expensive, mingled with a slight sheen of sweat). And then he pauses, his face tucked against his best friend’s neck, and stays there a bit too long. Bruce feels an electric jolt up his spine but then they finally detach, and exchange a quick look: Harvey frightened, worried, Bruce carefully assessing.

But then the millionaire gives him a forgiving smile, and the other man relaxes, and realises it’s still okay. 

===

When Harvey sees his friend with Selina, a muscle spasms in his throat, and he feels something snap.

It’s her and yet it isn’t just her; it’s the way his gaze trails down Bruce’s half-naked body, the sharp angles and lines of the other man’s bruised torso, the flinty set to his jaw, the challenge in the millionaire’s eyes. It’s him, it’s her, it’s both of them, it’s the fact that they now have something where he isn’t allowed in.

“Harvey, I—” Bruce begins, struggling to explain, but there’s an insensible roaring in Harvey’s ears that reeks of pain and anger and he can’t quite hear them over it.

“This isn’t about you,” Bruce continues, and it is, quite literally, the worst thing he could have said. _I wanted it to be about me,_ Harvey wants to scream.

And in the end there’s just that snarling voice in the back of his head, silken and poisonous: _See? I told you that you don’t matter to them._

He realises that it’s true, and his hand tightens on the coin in his pocket. 

===

When the Batman watches Harvey Dent in handcuffs, being carted away by the GCPD, he can’t help but let his gaze linger and feel that bitter taste of guilt in the back of his throat. If only he’d— 

“Take him to Arkham,” he says, his heart heavy. “Give him the care that he needs.”

===

Selina tugs the broken cowl off his head, hands splayed against his neck, the thick cords of muscle and tension in his shoulders, a machine strung taut. She assesses the damage as Batman stumbles into her arms: a torn ear, frayed cartilage. Several broken ribs from his fall down the asylum tunnels. His entire body a patchwork of colourful bruises.

He passes out.

Once he wakes up, some untold amount of time later, he recognises his bedroom at the manor. Ostentatious four-poster bed. Clothes scattered on the floor and the cowl staring at him from the desk, far from its usual spot in the basement racks. Nothing is where it belongs.

Which is when he realises Selina is perched on the end of his bed.

“How did you get in here? My security system is supposed to...” Bruce’s voice is muzzy. He thought he’d gotten the skeleton key back from her, but maybe he dreamt it—

Her smile is half-mocking, half-sincere, all her. “Alfred let me in.”

_Oh._

It’s a strangely heartwarming realisation that despite Alfred’s personal disapproval of the woman, he still brought her in, out of respect for the master’s wishes. He’s looking after the man who’s practically his son.

It isn’t until the next day that he has the strength to get to his feet again, walking gingerly across the room in his pyjama pants while Selina stalks beside him, wearing only one of his dress shirts. While they nurse cups of coffee in bed, she touches his jaw, fingers curling near the injured ear.

“There go my good looks,” he jokes, lightly.

Selina shakes her head. “Actually, I think it’s an improvement,” she says impishly. “You were too blandly pretty before. Like a beautiful mannequin out of a catalogue or something. This, on the other hand, gives you personality.”

“I thought I already had personality.”

“Only if someone gets to look past that empty Bruce Wayne shell. Like I can.” She’d been so prepared to write him off at first — another billionaire playboy, a by-the-book formula to crack, an easy mark — but the realisation that he was _Batman_ , of all things, threw all her schemes off-kilter. She’d been drawn into his sharp and jagged edges, the hidden potential lurking beneath. And yet he was still such an earnest boy scout, all _do no harm_ and _this city needs me_ and that all-American boyishness, against the dark and terrifying specter that haunted criminals’ nights. And yet… 

Yet Selina doesn’t want to examine the fact too closely that she’s still here, in goddamned _Gotham_ of all places, curled up in Bruce Wayne’s bed and jotting her chin against his ruined shoulder, her hand splaying across his bare chest.

“You came back,” he points out, because he’s infuriating that way, hitting right on the thing she doesn’t want to admit.

“Don’t read too much into it. Maybe I just wanted to rob your mansion blind,” Selina says, aware that she’s being a little huffy, her fur bristling — and by the growing smirk on his face, she can tell that he knows what she means, too.

She sighs, and settles down against him. He dozes off again like that, half an hour later.


End file.
